


One Thin Envelope

by flaming_muse



Category: Glee
Genre: Episode Related, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-12
Updated: 2012-12-12
Packaged: 2017-11-20 23:45:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/591038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flaming_muse/pseuds/flaming_muse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt gets home from work, is ignored by Mrs. Grimaldi, and fights with the mailbox. Just like every other day.</p>
<p>canonical, set within and just beyond 4x09 (“Swan Song”), no spoilers beyond</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Thin Envelope

Kurt stomped the slush off of his shoes as soon as he was inside of his building, hoping that at least the vast majority of it was only water, but since it had been a few days since snow had fallen he wasn’t all that optimistic. He tried to put what other, less appealing substances might be clinging to the leather out of his mind.

In his dreams of living in New York, he’d always thought about the fabulous clothes that he and the people around him would be wearing. It had taken up a great deal of his pre-New York dreaming, really. He’d never thought, though, of what it would mean to wear them in such a big, busy, dirty city. His dry cleaning budget was astronomical.

Stepping aside to hold the inner door for Mrs. Grimaldi, who ignored him as always, Kurt dug in his bag and pulled out the little brass key that - if he wiggled it just so - fit into the battered lock of their mailbox in their dingy little lobby. He managed to get the door open with a little finesse and pulled out the stack of mail that was inside. He tucked it into his bag without looking through it; mail had gotten a lot less interesting since it started to include bills... and since he was no longer excited about the idea of getting sweet notes from Blaine.

Not that Blaine was sending them anymore, anyway, not since Kurt had finally gotten through to him that he didn’t want any more love letters or apologies. It wasn’t quite true, because a soft part of him still longed so much for them that he ached all the way down into the very marrow of his bones, but he just couldn’t _accept_ them. So he’d stopped reading them, they’d finally stopped coming, and getting the mail just wasn’t as much of an event as it used to be.

It wasn’t until he was up in his apartment, with his coat hung up, his phone plugged into the charger, and his shoes toed off, that he turned back to the mail, sorting it on the table. He set the catalogues aside, because even though his money was tight for holiday shopping he never turned down an opportunity to browse, tossed the bills in the basket to be paid on Saturday when he and Rachel sat down with their checkbooks, and then stopped dead at the sight of a single thin envelope with a letterhead that he had nightmares about and a return address that he could recite in his sleep. He’d written it on an envelope of his own, holding all of his hopes and dreams, more than once now.

It was his response from NYADA.

He looked up at the empty apartment around him, breathless, with the envelope clutched in his hands. It was his NYADA letter. He hadn’t expected it to come so soon after the Winter Showcase, but then he guessed there was no reason to delay another rejection. Carmen Tibideaux clearly didn’t have any problem making up her mind.

Kurt turned the letter over, running his fingertips over the sealed flap as his pulse skittered and leapt. He didn’t know if he should open it or let himself have a few more precious minutes of hope before it was gone for good.

A rejection was going to be the final death knell of his dreams of becoming a performer, and as much as he loved his job in fashion it was a bitter pill to swallow to have the theater shut its doors in his face yet again, this time for the very last time. There was no way another rejection wasn’t going to be devastating, and it was all he could expect.

He hadn’t been prepared at all to sing at the Showcase. He hadn’t had time to practice, he’d barely had time to begin to warm up his voice, and he’d picked a song that didn’t show off his range, his skill at dancing, or his ability to set a mood and create a moment. He’d only shown his heart as he’d sung about loneliness, life, and love, and he didn’t see how that could be enough.

Even afterwards, when the audience had risen to their feet and had erupted in applause for him, he’d felt more drained and shocked than full of the usual excitement performing gave him.

And yet, despite the night not going at all how he had planned or could have dreamed, he’d felt so complete being up on the stage. He always did. Singing that song had still felt amazing in a raw and exposed sort of way. Whether the performance was simple or complicated, whether he had a solo or just got to sway in the background, Kurt loved being on stage. He lived for it.

And now he had been judged for it one last time - one last person telling him he could never measure up to the people around him, that he couldn’t fit, that he wasn’t good enough, that he wasn’t what people wanted - and he’d have to set this dream aside and chase another one.

Kurt lowered the letter a few inches toward the table but lifted it again before he put it down.

He wished it were easier for him to set aside things he loved, because even at the height of Blaine’s rejection of everything they had together Kurt still was pulled toward him, he still loved him, he still wanted the future they’d planned on having, and he was going to feel the same sense of helpless, unfair loss over this dream of his future, too. But that was life.

Kurt blew out a slow breath and slipped his thumb under the sealed flap of the letter to tear it open.

He’d celebrated with his dad when he’d opened his callback letter and had been comforted by Finn and Rachel when he’d gotten his rejection in the spring, but this time he was going to find out alone. That was his life now. He didn’t have the love of his family around him everyday anymore, he couldn’t depend on any friends in New York yet besides Rachel who came and went on her own schedule, and he didn’t need to pick up the phone to call someone to hold his hand. If he’d had Blaine, maybe he would have -

Kurt squared his shoulders. He didn’t have Blaine; he was on his own. He was doing it all on his own.

The flap came free without too much effort, and he swallowed down his pounding heart as he pulled out the single sheet of paper. It didn’t seem right that something so big in his life could be so physically small.

This was it.

With shaking fingers, he unfolded the paper and began to read it. It took him three tries before the words sank in.

_Dear Mr. Hummel, We thank you very much for your interest in NYADA. Your application stood out in a pool of exceptional candidates, and we are very pleased to offer you a spot in our program beginning in..._

Kurt’s eyes were stinging and wet as he read the first paragraph yet again, his heart catching on before his mind did. He’d gotten in. He’d _gotten in_. After trying and failing and trying and failing and giving one of the most bare performances of his life because he’d had no other choice, he’d gotten in.

They wanted him.

“I did it,” he said, barely a whisper, his eyes still on the page where the words were blurring through his tears.

He couldn’t believe it. He hadn’t expected it. Carmen hadn’t been impressed by his ability to accessorize or his flare for the dramatic. She had been going to reject him. She’d been so clear in her office that she wasn’t interested in that at all.

But when he’d been forced to drop the artifice and extras he loved so much and had to show his bruised, aching, lonely heart, _that_ she wanted. She wanted _him_ , what lay beneath it all. She wanted what he could do when he was just his solitary self up on stage.

After a year where he’d lost so much, from the dreams of leaving Lima behind on a cloud of glory to his confidence in the power of true love, he almost didn’t know what to do with himself with the news.

Kurt’s free hand drifted up to his mouth in wonder. He couldn’t speak. He could barely draw a breath. He’d gotten _in_. He knew he should call his dad. His dad needed to know. Or Blaine. Blaine would be happy, too, and he’d understand a little of what it meant to be accepted for himself instead of what he could pretend to be. Even though things were hard between them, Blaine had been a steadfast support through so much of the heartbreak of the first rejection, and he Kurt knew Blaine would also celebrate with him over the phone without question.

But first he had to figure out how to breathe, because no matter how times he read it the letter still said he’d gotten in.

It took him a moment to register the door sliding open and another moment before he could tell her the news, but then Rachel was in his arms, her tears of happiness mingling with his own and the numb shock of his heart turning into joy so fierce it caught in his throat and under his ribs and made his blood burn with pride.

He’d gotten _in_.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Kurt hugged Rachel as tightly as he could.

“I’m so happy for you!” she said against his shoulder.

“Me, too,” he said, his voice choked but his heart flying free.

He was going to NYADA, he was going to fight for every opportunity he wanted, and he could very well win them. He knew life was going to hit him again and again in unexpected ways - and sometimes from the most unexpected, most trusted, most beloved people - but he could do this. He could do all of this: his career, his life. He could do it.

Because he’d sung from his heart on that stage the way he always trusted his heart in his life, and he was finally in the right place where people could _value_ who he was instead of telling him to be someone else.

“Kurt!” Rachel said, rising up on her toes and kissing him soundly on the cheek. “We’re both going to be at NYADA!”

He nodded, smiling and crying at the same time, and she hugged him again with everything she had as he clung right back.

Kurt knew it wouldn’t be easy, because he’d heard so many of Rachel’s stories about her first semester, but he could do it. He was going to do it.

And he didn’t need anything or anyone but himself to make it happen.

**Author's Note:**

> Reminder: I am spoiler-free, so please don't tell me anything that's coming ahead!


End file.
